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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25759639">give me a pain that i'm used to</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/labellelunaclaire/pseuds/labellelunaclaire'>labellelunaclaire</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>AUgust 2020 [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gentleman Jack (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU-gust 2020, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Homophobia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:02:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,091</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25759639</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/labellelunaclaire/pseuds/labellelunaclaire</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Day 6 — Hospital </em>
</p><p>After getting into a fight, Anne Lister goes to the hospital for stitches. She's quite taken with the pretty young doctor who patches her up.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anne Lister (1791-1840)/Ann Walker (1803-1854)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>AUgust 2020 [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860763</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>AUgust 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>give me a pain that i'm used to</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I was originally going to write a Percy Jackson fic for this prompt. I’d been planning it for weeks, but it just wasn’t coming out right. Then I was hit with inspiration for this fic instead, and I ended up writing the whole thing about a day.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fucking cowards. Couldn’t even face her man to man.</p><p>But, then again, bigots don’t care about fair fights.</p><p>Her head was fucking killing her as she waited in the emergency room to be seen. A nurse had brought her out a towel to press against her bleeding forehead, so she wouldn’t have to use her jean jacket anymore. Her bottom lip was split and swollen and her ribs hurt every time she breathed. But she was alive, and she’d had worse.</p><p>Three on one and those bastards still couldn’t get her down. Pathetic.</p><p>Finally, the nurse at the receiving desk looked up. “Anne Lister, Dr. Walker is ready to examine you.”</p><p>Anne nodded and stood, trying not the grimace at the smarting of her ribs.</p><p>Another nurse met her at the entrance to the exam area and led her through to a large room with rows of beds and curtains, some occupied and hidden from view, some empty and waiting. She was ushered onto one of the free beds where the nurse unceremoniously closed the curtains and began taking her vitals, dabbing her open woulds with antiseptic and dressing them with clean bandages, and tutted at the gash that was still freely bleeding near her hairline.</p><p>“That’ll definitely require stitches,” she murmured, cleaning the torn edges of the flesh. “I’ll just get you numbed up and Dr. Walker can get you patched up in no time.”</p><p>“No need,” Anne said in a clipped tone. “Just send her in so we can get it done with.”</p><p>“Ma’am, you’re in for at least forty-five minutes of stitching for that wound,” the nurse told her firmly. “The outcome of which is what will dictate whether or not you have a highly visible scar on your face.”</p><p>“No numbing,” Anne reiterated. “This isn’t my first rodeo. Last time, I just stitched myself up with a sewing needle and some dental floss, but that’s a bit harder to do in a mirror.” She gestured to a neat scar across her forearm, about three inches long and barely visible.</p><p>The nurse sighed. “I’ll mark down that you refused local anesthetic against medical advice and go get the doctor.”</p><p>Anne smiled at her in that breezy, condescending way she was so prone to. “There’s a love. Off you go.”</p><p>Anne waited patiently on the uncomfortable hospital bed, tapping away on her phone, letting her ex/roommate know she was going to be late coming home and checking her favorite news paper.</p><p>“Knock knock,” an airy voice said as the curtain was pulled back, revealing a beautiful blonde woman in floral printed scrubs. “Miss Lister?”</p><p>“The one and only,” Anne responded.</p><p>The young, pretty woman smiled at her. “I’m Dr. Walker. Nurse Cordingly says you’ve refused the local anesthetic?”</p><p>“That’s correct, and you won’t change my mind, so you might as well not even try.”</p><p>Dr. Walker nodded. “Well, if you <em> do </em>change your mind at any point, just let me know and I’ll grab a nurse,” she said, pulling on a pair of gloves and laying out her equipment on the small table beside the bed.</p><p>She methodically got to work, holding the skin together and beginning the sewing. The needle stung where it pierced the skin, but Anne held perfectly still despite the pain.</p><p>“What happened, anyways?” Dr. Walker asked after a few minutes of quiet stitching.</p><p>“Just a few thugs looking to bash a dyke,” Anne responded. “They picked the wrong dyke, though. I can hold my own.”</p><p>Dr. Walker’s hands stilled for a second.</p><p>“We can call the police for you. Make a report,” Dr. Walker told her quietly. “They can investigate and see if there are any security cameras in the area, or any witnesses.”</p><p>“I don’t much care for the police, so that won’t be necessary,” Anne muttered, controlling the urge to flinch as the needle went in for another stitch.</p><p>“We can also get you the contact information for a victim’s advocate, or refer you to a therapist.”</p><p>“That’s really quite kind of you, Dr. Walker, but this isn’t the first time this has happened to me,” Anne told her. “You seem quite good at this,” she added with a vague hand gesture towards her head. “Not that I can see what it looks like right now, but you’ve got a very steady hand.”</p><p>Dr. Walker laughed a little as she pulled a stitch taut. “I’d say it’s all because of medical school, but the reality of it is that my mother was very insistent that I learn needlepoint when I was a girl. She thought I would need it to find a husband.”</p><p>“And did you?” Anne asked. “Use your needlepoint skills to find a Mr. Walker?”</p><p>She smiled. “No. Much to my parents’ frustration.”</p><p>“But you’re a doctor,” Anne pointed out. “That must be better than finding a husband.”</p><p>“My parents are a bit old fashioned,” Dr. Walker admitted. “When I decided to go to medical school, they tried to encourage me to go into nursing instead, because it’s a more ‘feminie’ career. Not that nurses aren’t incredibly important, it’s just not what I wanted to do.”</p><p>Anne hummed in acknowledgement. “Well, it’s a good thing for me that you didn’t listen to them.”</p><p>“Well, it’s looking like this will heal quite nicely when I’m finished,” Dr. Walker said. “If you follow the care instructions, you’ll probably barely be able to see the scar, Miss Lister.”</p><p>“Oh please,” Anne told her. “Just call me Anne. You’re getting more intimately acquainted with me than some of my lovers do.”</p><p>“My name’s Ann as well,” Dr. Walker said. “No ‘e’, though.”</p><p>“Excellent. Now I’ll not forget it. It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Ann Walker.”</p><p>“It seems that you lead a very interesting life, Anne,” Dr. Ann Walker pointed out. “Nurse Cordingly also said that you showed her a wound you’d stitched yourself.”</p><p>Anne chortled. “That’s not even the most interesting thing about my life, Dr. Walker.”</p><p>“I can only imagine. You’ll have to tell me about it sometime.”</p><p>“Well, how about coffee sometime?” Anne asked quietly.</p><p>Dr. Walker paused for a long second.</p><p>“You’re my patient,” she said. “It… probably wouldn’t be appropriate.”</p><p>“But I won’t be your patient once I walk out of this room,” Anne pointed out. “After that, I’m just Anne.”</p><p>Dr. Ann Walker continued stitching for a few minutes, clearly thinking about the proposition.</p><p>“Ask me again after you’re no longer my patient,” she said at last.</p><p>Anne smiled. “I’ll be sure to do that, Dr. Walker.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title comes from the song Depache Mode's <em><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YxrSS0PT-pY">A Pain That I'm Used To</a></em>, which was recommended by my fiancée when I was having a difficult time coming up with a title.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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